I had traveled some sixty pasangs afoot in the last three days. I felt now the weight of each step it seemed, I was worn, and tired. I felt as if the last of my energy had been expended by the effort of the pilgrimage to the town where I now sojourned. Dawn came cold and bleak with a pale silvery steel grey sky across which a scant snow blew, the frozen remains of the steady drizzling rain of the day before. Three days of warm breezes with a soft steady rain and at last the storm had wept itself hollow.
I felt much the same as the weather, wept out, hollow, cold and dry inside.
With a steaming mug of black coffee in hand, blackwine being in shortage here, I stood nude, barefooted, to the left of the heavy coarse linen curtains staring absently through the grimy panes of glass at nothing in particular as I rinsed the scum of sleep from my teeth with the bitter brew. I watched a noisesome flock of domesticated vulo running, squabbling, and scratching upon the lawn, feasting on insects and worms alongside the leftover vegetables and bread crusts of the previous nights meal.
There was a small fire burning in the hearth which provided warmth and the window to my right was open for ventilation, supplying fresh air and the cold breeze which swept continuously through the room. I felt everything, and none of it. The fuel of the fire was Turwood, a native hardwood which was plentiful in the area, it made excellent firewood, being both pleasantly aromatic and long burning. The air was crisp, sharp with that uniquely clean and sterile scent of snow. I was aware of everything, and nothing. I was, now, comfortably numb.
The night had been long, sleep had been elusive, and my dreams had been nightmarish.
During the evening before, I had consumed a fair amount of a potent local paga obtained from the Den across the street. I had drank most of it alone, in the silence and the darkness, the remainder of it I had poured out in portions between swallows upon the ground at my side. Right now, by Hersius, I'd like to have one more long swallow of it, and one of those things the Earthling slaves called segarits.
Long ago, a lifetime ago, I had one. It was given to me by Teph, another of our cohort, who had obtained a small rectangular packet of them from among the possessions of a savory nubile slave he bought on the block at the feet of a Steel Ship in the far away sands of the Oasis of the Stones of Silver. It was a small tube of thin paper which I supposed must have contained a strong and noxious dried herb. It was powerfully mint scented, and when lit with fire produced a pungent acrid smoke which made the eyes water and the lungs rebel with fits of coughing.
I remember the girl calmly placing the tip of one of them upon her pouty lips and lighting the other end of it afire with what we learned were called machez. She had inhaled the perfumed smoke deeply, then exhaled it from her nose, the wisps of smoke veiling her dark eyes and dissipating around her lovely form. She had taken it from her lips and turning it elegantly within small nimble fingers had pressed it then to the lips of her Master. Teph following suit and inhaling deeply was immediately overcome with a fit of choking and profusely watering eyes. Reeling with the shock of it, gasping for air and pawing at his eyes, he had taken the thing from his mouth and waved it at me in offering as he turned away retching.
Without hesitation I took it from him while watching with astonishment his reaction to it. Curiosity getting the better of me prompted me to bring the thing near my nose to smell it and my senses revolted instantly. Bravado however, compelled me to join him and I too was quickly waylaid by it, being momentarily rent asunder from my senses and all semblance of self control. I do not recall clutching the smoldering thing in my hand in that moment of my desperation, but I do clearly recall throwing it to the ground, stamping it underfoot in fury, and striking the girl open handed across the face.
I had come to Harfax on personal business, and by Hersius, I'd give a golden tarn now for segarits and machez.
I came to say farewell to another of my brothers in arms.
Teph's funeral was yesterday.
